


Discorporation and a Christmas Invasion

by thisisthevoiceofterror1942



Category: Doctor Who, Doctor Who (2005), Good Omens (TV)
Genre: Complete, Short
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-19
Updated: 2020-06-19
Packaged: 2021-03-03 19:53:39
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,527
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24811126
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thisisthevoiceofterror1942/pseuds/thisisthevoiceofterror1942
Summary: A Good Omens fic with Doctor Who inspiration, based on the DW episode a Christmas Invasion, the first Daivd Tennant episode. Nothing too serious, just a bit of favorite fandom fun! I wrote it some months ago but didn't post it because I intended to make longer, but I can't really think of a proper continuation so here it is!
Kudos: 10





	Discorporation and a Christmas Invasion

It was snowing in Soho that Christmas Day, and the principality Aziraphale sat by the window of his bookshop, reading. He was enjoying himself very much. There was nothing like being in a warm place with a book while looking at a beautiful but frigid outside. As it was Christmas, his shop was closed, and he contented himself to read the Bible, just in case Gabriel started asking how he spent this holy day. Suddenly, the doorbell tinkled, and the door flew open. Aziraphale half expected Gabriel, but instead, in stumbled Crowley.

“Ahhh! Aziraphale!” he cried, leaving the door open behind him. Aziraphale miracled it shut.

“Crowley, have you been drinking?” asked the angel, preparing to rise from his seat. 

“No, no, no, no, hold on. Wait there. What was I going to say?” said Crowley, who had stumbled over to Aziraphale, and now had his hands on the angel’s shoulders. 

“There was something I had to tell you. Something important. What was it? No, hold on. Hold on. Hold on. Shushshushht! Oh! I know: Merry Christmas!” said Crowley— and then, quite suddenly, he collapsed onto the floor, unconscious. 

“Crowley!” cried Aziraphale. He leapt up from his chair and knelt beside his friend. His first thought was that Crowley was out, blind drunk, but there wasn’t even the faintest smell of alcohol on the Fallen angel. It was then that Aziraphale realized how little color was left in Crowley’s face. 

“Crowley? Crowley!” Nothing. “Oh... oh dear.”   
Aziraphale’s first reaction was to call an ambulance, but then he remembered how suspicious reptilian eyes would be, and how humans were always interfering with things they didn’t understand, and the things they might do to someone “extraterrestrial”.... Aziraphale, having, of course, an angel’s strength, picked up Crowley with ease and carried him into the back of the bookshop, to where his home area was. There wasn’t a bed. There never had been. Just dressers and such for his clothes and personal effects. But with a snap of the angel’s fingers, there WAS a bed. He laid Crowley on it, and with another snap of his fingers, Crowley was dressed in pajamas. Aziraphale drew the blankets up to Crowley’s shoulders, and removed Crowley’s sunglasses, setting them carefully on the nightstand that had also appeared. A few more miracles and a dressing gown lay at the foot of the bed, a lamp was on the nightstand, a chair sat beside the bed, and Crowley’s old clothes lay folded in the nightstand drawer. Aziraphale sighed, and pulled a stethoscope from thin air. He put it to Crowley’s chest, and heard perfectly normal beating. At least there’s that, he thought. He went out into the bookshop and quickly to a small and rather untouched selection of books. They were medical books. Aziraphale knew that if Crowley had been harmed by an agent of Heaven or Hell, these books would be of no use— but if this were, God hopefully willing, just a malady of the human body, perhaps with knowledge from these books, he could combination heal/miracle it away. He took the books into the now bedroom and sat down in the bedside chair, and began to read. A matter of quiet hours passed, and being able to speedily read and immediately consume information permanently, Aziraphale had soon finished a good portion of the material. Night had fallen, and still Crowley slept. Suddenly, there came a knock on the bookshop door. Fear sprung into the angel’s heart, because he knew it was very possible that other angels were on the other side of the door. Aziraphale left the bedroom, and carefully peeked through the mail-slot in his front door. Sure enough, it was Gabriel. Aziraphale breathed shakily. Gabriel would smell evil, and it would be too strong to again blame it on the books. Gabriel knocked again.  
“Just a moment, it’s rather a mess in here, let me tidy it just a bit— had some rather disrespectful customers in here earlier, I’m afraid.” said Aziraphale through the door.

“Just hurry UP, Aziraphale.” said Gabriel annoyedly.

Aziraphale ran to the bedroom.   
“Crowley? Crowley, you’ve got to wake up, or Gabriel is going to find you!” he said, shaking Crowley gently by the shoulders. Nothing. “Crowley, we’re in trouble! Please!” Still nothing. “Oh, where on earth could I hide you; I can’t... Can’t just dump you in the alley...”  
Aziraphale bent over Crowley and whispered into his ear,   
“Help me!”

Crowley sat bolt upright.   
“What’s happening?!”

“It’s Gabriel, he’s waiting outside the front door. You’ve got to get out of here until he goes. I can’t hide you here, he’ll smell you!” explained Aziraphale. Crowley leapt out of bed and, not seeing his clothes, threw the dressing gown on, and, sneaking out of the room carefully, climbed out of one of the shop windows. Aziraphale quickly threw Crowley’s sunglasses into the nightstand drawer.  
“A-ZIRA-PHALE!” shouted Gabriel.

“Oh, I’m so sorry. Terribly, awfully sorry. Just didn’t want you to see it a mess.” said Aziraphale, opening the door. Gabriel stepped in, and furrowed his brow. 

“Something smells... evil.”

“Oh, ah, well, some of the books of which the humans are most fond, I’m afraid, are—” began Aziraphale.

“Yes, yes,” said Gabriel dismissively. He didn’t need the details as long as there was an innocent explanation. “I’m just checking to see what you’ve done today, as I always like to have a good Christmas report for the Almighty.”

“Ah, yes, I dedicated my time to reading the Bible. Again. Never too many readings of the Almighty’s word!” said Aziraphale cheerfully. 

“Good. Very good.” said Gabriel, with a look on his face that meant none of Aziraphale’s fellow angels ever read anything besides the Bible, and had certainly only read it once. Who needed rereading when you’ve got a perfect mind? Gabriel walked about for a moment, and then walked into the bedroom, and looked at it critically. Aziraphale prayed he wouldn’t look in the drawer, finding Crowley’s clothes.

“SLEEPING, Aziraphale?” asked Gabriel judgmentally.

“Oh, just a new habit of mine. I don’t do it often, but sometimes it’s nice.” explained Aziraphale.

“Sometimes I wonder if we haven’t had you down here too long, Aziraphale. Maybe we should bring you back home, and have another angel take your place.” 

“With respect, I think the humans would find my departure suspicious.”

“We could supply the proper means. They could believe you left for America or some such thing.”

“But I have all of the experience. No other angel knows the Earth as well, as intimately, as I do. I think, from beginning to end, I am meant to be here, where the Almighty put me. So unless the Almighty requests otherwise...?”

“No, it hasn’t been requested. Yet. Goodbye, Aziraphale.” Gabriel strode out of the bookshop and disappeared from sight, back to Heaven. Aziraphale sighed in relief— although he still felt a bit uneasy, as though Gabriel suspected, and something bad was going to happen... Crowley appeared in the doorway.   
“That was close.” he said. 

“Were you listening?” asked Aziraphale.

“Yeah, I just sat underneath the window I left through. He suspects something.” said Crowley. 

“Do you think?”   
But Aziraphale didn’t get an answer. Crowley cried in pain and fell against the wall. Aziraphale rushed to him.   
“What’s wrong?” 

“You woke me up to soon. I didn’t mean to throw this on you, I’m sorry.”

“What do you mean?” 

“I got discorporated. When to Hell. They were REALLY REALLY unha—“ Crowley cried out again.

“Oh, oh, oh dear, dear...” said Aziraphale, not knowing what to do.

“Unhappy.” finished Crowley. “So they— they did some— unfavorable — things.” 

“They hurt you.” said Aziraphale sadly. “You got discorporated and I wasn’t there, and then they hurt you.”

“Not your fault,” said Crowley. “And they still would’ve done what they did.”

“I know, but temporary or not, no one should die alone.” replied Aziraphale. Crowley smiled for a moment, but then faltered in pain, and he grimaced instead.   
“Crowley? Crowley, you’ve got to tell me.” urged Aziraphale. 

“They— hang on, why is there an apple in my dressing gown?” Crowley had just put his hand into his pocket, and had surprisingly found fruit. Aziraphale blushed.

“I thought you might get hungry.”

“What, in my sleep?” 

“It can happen sometimes. But that’s NOT important, just TALK to me, for goodness sake!”

“Well our bodies take the form of whatever we look like, yeah? As well as having the same strength and intelligence, they don’t need sleep...”

“Yes.... I don’t understand.”

“Hell hurt me.”

“Yes...?”

“So my human body— “ Crowley cried out again.

“It’s taking on the injuries.” said Aziraphale.

“Yes. Usually it’s all just physical fatigue and not injury that transfers, and there’s a sort of healing process, but if it gets interrupted...”

“Oh Lord, that’s what you mean by waking you up too soon.”

“I shouldn’t have come, but I didn’t think it would happen so fast and after all that, well, I wanted to see you.”

“Why... why wasn’t I ever told all these discorporation and recorporation rules?”

“Well they don’t usually torture people for slip-ups in Heaven, do they? And you’ve never discorporated.”

“Mm.”

Suddenly, Crowley shuddered, and a shadow passed over his face.  
“Aziraphale... if Gabriel suspects... if Heaven and Hell start looking... you have to get away...”

“Never mind that, Crowley, tell me what I can do for you!”

“But I... I don’t know. I think I might be permanently mangled, or possibly... die. And I don’t mean discorporation. I have no idea. But Aziraphale...?” said Crowley shakily.

“Yes, Crowley?” said Aziraphale gently. Crowley was gripping Aziraphale’s shoulder tightly— but then his grip loosened and his eyes rolled back in his head. He collapsed.

“Crowley!” cried Aziraphale, horrified. He quickly felt for a pulse. The angel sighed in relief when he felt one, but the relief was quickly followed by another flash of fear, for Crowley’s pulse was bounding. In fact, as Aziraphale suddenly realized, Crowley appeared to be burning up with fever. Ironic, in a way, given the fact that he was from Hell. But of course that didn’t matter. What mattered was WHY. All of Aziraphale’s recently consumed medical knowledge flashed through his mind, looking for a logical explanation— and he hit it: and unattended injury. But Crowley wasn’t bleeding... or was he? Aziraphale removed Crowley’s dressing gown, and immediately dry wretched. So this was the human equivalent of what they done to him. His clothes were soaked with blood that hadn’t yet bled completely through the dressing gown, which is why Aziraphale hadn’t noticed it as they spoke, but he could now see the size and depth of the wounds— as if falling from Heaven wasn’t already punishment enough for the ages. Aziraphale miracled medical supplies and set to cleaning and dressing Crowley’s wounds. Once he finished, he carried Crowley back into the bedroom and laid him in bed. Crowley murmured and fidgeted in his feverish sleep, and Aziraphale never left him as the night went on, putting cold towels to his forehead and checking his pulse. Eventually, Crowley’s fever faded, and his sleep became peaceful. Night turned to day, and Aziraphale kept the bookshop closed, and paid mind only to Crowley. But as the day progressed, Crowley’s pulse grew thready and his skin grew cold, and Aziraphale knew that despite his efforts, Crowley was going to die. But he couldn’t let him die, he couldn’t let him go back to Hell— they’d probably kill him. As Aziraphale looked at the piteous state of his friend, he made a decision: he would take Crowley’s place. Aziraphale put his hand in Crowley’s, and concentrated very hard. He felt himself changing, switching bodies with Crowley... He let go. He looked at the figure in bed, and saw himself. Unlike Crowley, he looked peaceful, like a human in a normal sleep. Aziraphale felt pain like he’d never known consuming him, and he knew he was about to die. He looked in the mirror and saw Crowley, that horrible, pitiful version of Crowley staring back and him... and then he couldn’t see anymore. Darkness consumed him, the last thing he knew was the thud of hitting the floor— or perhaps it was the stopping of his heart. 

“Aziraphale,”   
Silence.  
“Aziraphale.” A little stronger this time.  
Aziraphale opened his eyes and saw Gabriel standing over him.  
“What happened, Aziraphale?” asked the Archangel.

“The body discorporated.” said Aziraphale dumbly, stumbling to his feet.

“Obviously, Aziraphale. But WHY?” asked Gabriel.

“Well it’s... it’s a bit of an odd story.” 

“Go on.”

“Well, I was in an alley and the demon Crowley discovered me and attacked me. It was clear he’d been horribly mangled and was about to discorporate, but Hell wouldn’t have been happy if he did, so he tackled me, and before I could do a THING, we’d swapped bodied and I discorporated.”

“So he’s walking around as you?”

“Yes, so when you give me another body you ought to make is his, so I can do to him what he did to me— we can’t have two me’s walking about, you might get the wrong one!”

“If he discovered and overpowered you before, what makes you think he won’t defeat you this time?”

“Oh, he’s probably desperate to have his own body back— we have nothing whatsoever in common. Obviously. So he probably will only PRETEND to fight me.” 

“Well... very well, Aziraphale.” 

“Thank you, my lord.” 

With a snap of Gabriel’s fingers, Aziraphale was in a perfectly healthy version of Crowley’s body. He smiled, and returned to Earth. He put his hand in Crowley’s (or, in a sense, put Crowley’s hand in his) and swapped back. Then he sat down in the bedside chair, and another wave of darkness swept over him— only this time, it was sleep. Apparently, when it came to corporation and discorporation, celestial beings COULD get tired, and right now, Aziraphale was exhausted. 

Aziraphale heard the rustling of sheets and opened his eyes. Crowley was waking up.  
“A... Aziraphale...?” said Crowley weakly.

“Here I am, Crowley.” answered the angel gently.

“What... what happened? Something’s different.” 

“Don’t worry about it now, just rest.”

“Wait, I... I’m not bleeding anymore! Everything’s gone!” said Crowley, examining himself.

“Yes, but that’s only in your human body, so don’t get too excited.” said Aziraphale. 

“But you couldn’t have healed that...”

“I didn’t. I... I swapped bodied with you.”

“You WHAT?”

“I knew you were going to discorporate and I couldn’t let Hell get their claws into you again, so I swapped with you, discorporated, and told a phony story to Gabriel and got him to give me a new body in your form, and then swapped back— And I am NOT going to do it again, so you stay RIGHT there in that bed and don’t you DARE move until you’re perfectly well.”

“Aziraphale... I don’t know what to say. Thank you won’t cover it. Nothing could ever cover it.”

“Don’t worry about it, my dear, just... just don’t FRIGHTEN me like that anymore!”

“I’ll try not to, I promise.” 

“Good.”

“Aziraphale?”

“Yes, Crowley?”

“Hand me that apple, will you?”

The End


End file.
